Musing about weight, food, & health.

Binge eating and being fat

Michelle, the Fat Nutritionist, wants folks to know that, no, not all fat people are binge eaters. In fact, some fat folks don’t binge eat, and some binge eaters are actually thin.

As a fat person who does binge eat, I understand wanting clarity about this subject, but it hurts her feelings? Really?

My name is Michelle, I am fat, and I don’t binge eat. Binge eaters are not bad, out-of-control people – I simply don’t share that experience, despite being really fat. Assuming I do based on the way I look is stereotyping. …

The part of stereotyping all fat people as binge eaters that I find the most hurtful is when it comes from other fat people, or formerly fat people – because their experience of looking like me, at some point, apparently lends them the veneer of rarified insider knowledge; because fat people in our culture are such an intensely stereotyped group that, of course, it is assumed that the experience of a single fat person represents the experience of all; and because confessions of binge eating represent useful anecdata to prop up the dominant narrative of fat people as unrepentant gluttons. …

Let me make this very clear – I am not hurt when a fat person or formerly fat person discloses that they do or did binge eat. Not only is binge eating morally neutral, but a person sharing their personal experience is not about me.

But when they make it about me by promoting the idea that, because they did it, every other person of a particular weight must be doing it too – then I am hurt.

Hmmm. Binge eating is “morally neutral” but she’s hurt when someone presumes she is doing it because of her weight. Maybe it’s not as morally neutral as she says it is.

That said, some good info about binge eating in the post. Check it out.

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5 Responses

I can see your point, Beth, but maybe the (obscured) underlying issues are far more complicated than simply framing binge eating as “morally neutral” or not.

I cannot speak for Michelle, but I wonder if (in her post) she may have been struggling to articulate lived experiences (and sources of pain) which our dominant cultural discourses exclude—and, thus, the dominant discourses effectively de-legitimate these lived experiences (and the associated feelings of pain and disrespect), essentially rendering them as nonexistent, unreal, crazy or invalid. In the situation Michelle describes, persons (with whom she attempts to communicate in good faith) fail to socially “recognize” her as an individual subject; instead, repeatedly, she is reified (placed into a socially constructed category) as if she is an object or a thing (or a commodity)–rather than a separate, unique, whole, and complex human being.

This widespread (and mostly unacknowledged) social practice is, according to philosophers such as Axel Honneth, a form of social pathology that perpetuates and reinforces a worldview in which we (humans) learn to conceptualize (and treat) our selves and others as things or commodities–valued for our effectiveness or efficiency—and understood, for example, as the means to an end.

Nancy Fraser and Axel Honneth (2003) discuss the concept of “recognition” in their book, “Redistribution or Recognition?”, and Honneth (2005) pursues the concept of recognition in much greater depth in “Reification: A Recognition-Theoretical View”, which can be found in pdf form at the following link: http://tannerlectures.utah.edu/lectures/documents/Honneth_2006.pdf

Admittedly, for readers unfamiliar with the discourses of critical studies (or critical social theory), for instance, such texts may seem unhelpful, discouraging and aggravating. Naturally, when virtually all of our learned ideas (and ways of thinking) consist of those included by dominant cultural discourses, new excursions into other forms of discourse can feel daunting and even maddening, at first, until one gradually begins to acquire a firmer grasp of major themes and ideas.

So, sometimes, I like to refer folks to the film, “Avatar”, with its “Na’Vi” worldview and language in which the expression “I see you” cannot readily be translated into English without the cultural context provided by the film’s story and characters. I like believe that the Na’Vi expression, “I see you”, illustrates a helpful way to acknowledge–through discourse–some fundamental meaning related to “recognition”, which goes beyond merely showing or granting respect to ourselves and to others. For me, recognition is inextricably intertwined with the sacredness of all existence, a worldview that allows us to connect and interact with others and with ourselves–not as the means to any end–but as sacred beings capable of reaching mutual understanding. Unfortunately, these concepts have largely been distorted by dominant discourses—sent to the realms of religious ideology and left there to decompose.

Your response is thoughtful and helpful. That said, I feel a bit like Michelle’s comment reminds me a bit of what’s often portrayed in the media (for example, at the end of Bend it Like Beckham) when someone not gay is reacting to suggestions otherwise: “What? Me gay?! Are you kidding me?! … Of course, not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

Being gay and being a binge eater can be viewed as being objectively “morally neutral.” But reality (or should I say subjectivity?) is more complicated. I’m sure Michelle would like to be recognized as an individual. At the same time, I’d be just as happy to not feel diminished in her efforts.

I feel profound regret because it now seems obvious to me that my comment (although well intended) over-intellectualized a situation that is causing you distress. I do have a tendency to resort to a stance of theoretical detachment, at times, when I feel a sense of powerlessness to help or to provide comfort. I apologize for failing so miserably to express empathy and to seek mutual understanding. One of my greatest sources of irritation about subjects such as binge eating (or other compulsive behaviors) results from the paucity of sound scientific evidence in support of physiological precursors to addictive patterns. I want to scream at people who chalk it all up to psychological dysfunction—as if psychological impulses and brain biochemistry interactions are completely separate processes. The neurophysiological responses to fear, threat, trauma, and extreme stress cannot be teased loose from psychological drives to create neurological relief from what can feel like unbearable tension and confusion.

I recall (as if it was yesterday) the first times I began practicing binge eating behaviors as a child who finally realized that I was confronting a world in which help (rescue from unspeakable conditions) would not be forthcoming for me. It is nearly impossible to describe those experiences of utter loneliness, isolation, shame and despair to people who have not survived what was, essentially, an invisible war (with chronic violence, unpredictable shocks, and ongoing terror)—especially when you (as a mere child) have done your very best to locate (and risk trusting) adults who can or are willing to help you escape your never-ending trauma—but instead you discover (kind and caring) adults who nevertheless feel as frightened and helpless as you feel. That horror is indescribable and sends shock waves throughout the body. It is summed up in two words “No Exit.” A child cannot comprehend that adults may be caring and kind yet are not omnipotent social actors with free will to overcome similar systemic forces of domination which prevent them from acting in the best interest of the victimized child.

Frequently, school teachers eventually learn to look the other way when students (small children) show up in class smelling like prostitutes, have blistered welts from whippings with electrical extension cords, and display violent tendencies toward classmates or remain withdrawn and remote. The social workers which take over the cases are confronted with systems that honor the sanctity of family sovereignty, above all, especially when parents have social status, community support, and/or economic resources on their side.

For me, it came down to many (unconscious) trial and error explorations of behaviors that allowed me to somehow endure another day, another week, another year—without needing to step in front of a bus or leap from a ninth floor apartment window. My own genetic (and/or epigenetic) neurophysiological response system, I believe, was already set up in a way that constructed a significant and necessary measure of pain relief (with the aid of various endocrine messengers) after I ingestion enough sugary substances. Thus, at about the age of 7, I secretly devoured almost all of the caramel frosting from my older brother’s birthday cake during the hours just before his special party. This sneaky process required great stealth and cunning on my part. It didn’t matter that I knew, intellectually, my punishment would be severe. All that mattered to me was achieving a small measure of pain relief in the meantime–and the absence of my usual powerlessness–during a small period of time in which my brain systems made it possible for me to disassociate from my shame and terror.

Similarly, when I discovered several dozen home made fudge brownies in the freezer (in our garage), the likely consequences–of getting caught and severely beaten (and emotionally tormented)–barely even crossed by mind because the *out of body-like* dissociative process swept over me and through me, almost with that very first compulsive bite. Dozens of frozen brownies later (didn’t wait for them to thaw), eaten one after the other, left me with a sick and bloated feeling in my stomach. However, during those moments while chewing and swallowing, I felt a rare sense of freedom and security—and a profound absence of dread—which nothing else in my life was able to provide.

Anyway. Perhaps Michelle is fortunate after all (not because she is morally *above* binge eating) but because she has never needed to experience that strangely tragic yet necessary disconnection from herself (from her own mind) that often accompanies binge eating. On the other hand, maybe Michelle had no need to construct a brief respite from reality, with the help of complex neurophysiological processes, which allowed her to survive to adulthood. The next time someone tries to insist that Michelle simply MUST be a binge eater, she may want to give some extra thought to what may be implied by that suggestion. It’s possible that the person isn’t failing to recognize her own unique humanity; instead, they may be trying to locate a kindred spirit–to recognize a potential source of empathy who understands both the tragedy and the astonishing human capacity to survive.

Oh, don’t worry!! Neither your comment nor the original post caused me any distress. I have absolutely no qualms about pointing out that not all fat folks are binge eaters (or vice versa). But having a blog, I did feel compelled to suggest that it appeared to me to be a bit of “methinks one doth protest too much.” I cannot really know what was in Michelle’s mind, but to me, it felt like there was a bit of a conflict between claiming a behavior “morally neutral” — especially when that behavior is considered a “mental disorder” in the DSM 5 — and “feeling hurt” when that behavior was attributed to her.

I appreciate your thoughts on this! That said, I suppose I wonder if it’s just a funny (read curious, not ha ha) human trait. It reminds me of several years past when I used to work for a ritzy frou-frou wedding caterer and spent lots of time in wedding forums. You think to carb or not to carb is a contentious issue? Go on a wedding forum and try and explain why you are not doing a bouquet/garter toss and/or a money dance. Watch brides’ feelings get hurt when a bride stumbles her way through how she doesn’t think it’s appropriate for her age or her guests or her culture.

OTOH, perhaps this ties back to your other comments about the importance of connection in community. I’m fascinated by the idea that (per Brené Brown) we’re “hardwired to connect with others.” It makes sense from an evolutionary perspective that we might be distressed when we feel our peers have issues with us (morally or otherwise).

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Weight Maven is written by Beth Mazur. Beth believes that obesity is more symptom than cause and that the real problem is our modern culture -- especially diet. Beth writes about ancestral health, health policy, & mindfulness. And cats! More »

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This blog is the story of one woman's journey to understand the rising rates of obesity and apply it in her own efforts to lose weight. The information and opinions provided here are believed to be accurate and sound, but readers who fail to consult appropriate health authorities assume the risk of any injuries.